


Secrets Undone

by Castingblossom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Comfort/Angst, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Emotions, Explosions, Fights, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Godfather Sirius Black, Grimmauld Place, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Harry Has Secrets, Hiding, Hiding Medical Issues, Hiding in Plain Sight, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lies, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Orphan Harry Potter, Parent-Child Relationship, Protective Remus Lupin, Protectiveness, Scars, Secrets, Tearjerker, Teen Angst, Truth, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 09:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12650769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castingblossom/pseuds/Castingblossom
Summary: Hiding a wealth of emotions under his practised façade, Harry is as eager as ever to conceal the true nature of his detentions with Professor Umbridge. But when a chance accident unveils the bitter truth and the Order are soon demanding answers.With Sirius realising that he may not be the godfather he thought he was, Mrs Weasley fit to burst with suppressed emotion, Remus desperately trying to hold the broken pieces together and Harry backed into a corner. Christmas at Grimmauld Place is not at all what anyone expected.Only one question remains, just how far will Harry go to protect his private world?





	Secrets Undone

**Author's Note:**

> **This work in no way belongs to me. The characters, the general plot, the setting - it's all a figment of J.K Rowlings fantastic imagination. (I'm just borrowing the whole thing for a little while but I promise to put it all back neatly once I'm done!)
> 
>  
> 
> ...So there has been a long-held belief among HP fans - J.K. Rowling missed out a chapter when she wrote The Order of the Phoenix. Of course it's been done time and time again, but here is my version. Let me explain how I think Sirius should have discovered Harry's hand. 
> 
>  
> 
> (This is just a short one from me, but add me to your favourites/bookmarks, whatever just watch this space because something good will be heading your way very soon.) 
> 
>  
> 
> As always my beautiful readers I love, love, LOVE hearing your thoughts, reading your comments and counting your kudo's. (I can't help it, it's like the best thing ever) so please hit the box below and tell leave your stuff.  
> Much love guys,  
> xxx

Seeing Mrs Weasley begin collecting the plates around her in that fussy-mothering way of hers, Harry scraped back his chair and rose. 

“You off to bed already?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at the hanging clock. 

Nodding, the ebony haired teen offered his best friend and Hermione a tight smile. Truth be told their endless questioning of his earlier encounter with Snape and impending Occlumency lessons was beginning to grate on his nerves. Though he had of course initiated the conversation he’d quickly realized he had quite enough going through his head at that moment without adding their opinions and regretted it instantly. 

Not wanting to appear rude he gathered his own plate and cutlery before edging towards the sink; all the while fully aware of the eyes burning holes in the back of his head. It was late enough to retire with the excuse of an early-morning start he reasoned with himself, why did they have to stare at him for that?

“Oh Harry dear is that you turning in? Very sensible, you’re a good boy, good boy. You see Ron, some your age actually do appreciate the importance of acting responsibly.” 

Harry grimaced as Mrs Weasley shot her son a reproachful glare; he daren’t look at his godfather. 

“Mum it’s nine thirty! Besides I’ve got everything packed already and Fred, George and Ginny are all still up too. Why aren’t you having a go at them?” Ron asked stabbing his fork into his steak with a little more force than strictly necessary. 

“Because we’re a whole year older than you Ronikins and a growing boy like you needs his sleep.” 

“Dad’s only just come out of hospital mum and I’ve barely had chance to talk to him, it’s not fair the twins have been hogging him all night! And Tonks promised to show me her faces again.” 

“If you’re trying to convince me of your maturity Ginny I assure that is not the way to go about it, and as for you Ron –“ 

“Molly dear surely we could allow them another half hour, I know we have to get to King’s Cross tomorrow but –“

“I hope your not including us in that, we’re of age! Half an hour indeed.” George injected. 

“Why is it always such a fight to get you all to bed? Do you not understand you have to be up very early tomorrow? And you four are a nightmare to wake at the best of times. No, no Arthur I’ve had enough – all of you to bed now’.” 

Even some of the most accomplished Order members seemed to shrink back in their seats at her tone. It was beyond them all how her kids were brave enough to try her patience so, but try they did. 

“But muuuummmmm...” 

“FRED DO YOU REALLY THINK I DIDN’T SEE THAT?” 

“See what?”

“What you just gave to Mundungas! If I find out you and your brother are up to your old tricks again I swear to high heavens –“

“Mother, mother, mother always so mistrustful! Besides I don’t see why I’m guilty – we’re actually not the same person you know!”

“T’was a couple o’ custard creams Molly really, look – got ‘em right ‘ere. Fred knows ‘ow I love a biscuit or two wimme tea before I get me head down.” 

Mrs Weasley’s face twisted as if she’d swallowed a bogey flavoured jelly-bean and every guest of 12 Grimmauld Place braced. 

“If you think I believe that Mundungas you really are a –“

Feeling his stomach tangle into knots at sparking yet another heated debate between the Weasley’s, Harry bowed his head and focused on the scolding water lapping at his raw skin.  Thoughts of catching his godfather alone curdling away with the rising steam as the tension in the kitchen climaxed to dizzying heights. As much as he adored the rowdy freckled gang the pain behind his eye was throbbing hard enough to license a potion, he just didn’t need this right now. 

“Come now Molly, you know I told Ginny and Ron we’d play a game of chess tonight.”

He twisted in time to see Mrs Weasley shoot her husband a glare that only his aunt could rival before rounding on the twins once more. Grabbing a dish-cloth he watched with an odd constricting sensation in his chest as the remaining red-heads along gravitated towards their dad with identical looks of love in their eyes. Harry’s cheek twitched. 

“Alright then now who’s up to the challenge first? Ron? Right okay prepare to be defeated my young friend, prepare to be defeated.” Mr Weasley said his holding the good-natured charm of a man well practiced at diffusing escalations. 

The dark haired teen let his gaze linger long enough to see Ron let out a snort and Ginny curl up to her father’s side before shifting his focus back to running the thread-bare towel over the smooth porcelain surface.  

“I think you’ve rubbed some of the engravings off you know.” 

The plate slipped from his fingertips sending screams of splintered agony echoing around the concrete room. Necks cracked as the tables occupants once again turned to stare in his direction. 

“Erm, sorry – I’m sorry, I just – Hermione you made me jump!”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” She said with just enough hostility to make him regret his tone. His face flushed as he stole a glance at the table noting how most eyes were still pinning him to the spot. 

“Sorry.” He murmured again dropping to his knees to begin collecting the pitiful remains. His bushy haired friend wasted no time in following suit, though Harry got the distinct impression she was only using this as an excuse to press him for more information about his recent behaviour. 

“You’re tense Harry.” 

“Am not. You just made me jump is all.” Harry said all too aware of her hot breath tickling the side of his neck.

“You’re not normally this jumpy.” 

“You’re not normally that quiet.” He said, there was a definite edge to his tone now, he knew what she was getting at but for the life of him he couldn’t work out why she wouldn’t leave it alone. He’d told her, he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Hermione sucked her bottom lip for a moment and Harry felt the familiar twang of guilt strum his insides. He didn’t know why he so often took it out on them. Or maybe he did. Maybe it was because he knew hiding wouldn’t work with them, they knew him too well and that scared him.

“I’m just saying I think maybe well you should talk to someone about things.”  Hermione said giving him the look Harry had come to know all too well. 

“And it’s as easy as that.” 

Reaching out for a particularly large shard, his eyebrows arched when his fingertips met nothing but slick tiles. A pair of purple lace-up’s tapped and his eye’s trailed upwards. 

“Bet you two can’t until for your seventeenth huh? I know I couldn’t, always breaking things me, mastered the vanishing charm quicker than the rest of my year that’s for sure. Call it my specialty, that and my reparo charm of course.”  Tonks said flashing a beam as bright as her bubble-gum pink hair. 

With frizzy hair sticking out at all angles now Hermione quickly thanked her and clambered to her feet, Harry however stayed put. Something in the aura’s smile had flickered when she dropped her gaze.

“Are you alright there Harry?” She asked after a moments pause cocking her head as though trying to get a better view of the ground. 

Understanding hit like a sledge hammer to the skull. Dropping everything he’d managed to collect he snatched his hand away from sight, uttering a curse as blood sprayed a pin-prick track.

Tonks frowned creasing deep lines into her brow.  “You’re bleeding.” 

Thinking fast he tried to school his features to that of surprise. “Am I?” 

“Yes, here let me heal your hand, some of the glass was pretty sharp, I think you’ve cut yourself.” The witch said stretching towards him.

Shaking his head Harry willed his limbs to co-ordinate and stand. “It’s probably nothing - just a scratch.” 

The aura pursed her lips and the teen berated himself for being so blatant.  A canopy of silence was stretching over the room now leaving his airways feeling oddly compressed. Even Hermione had stopped sweeping her jeans. He had to say something, think of some excuse and fast. 

“Honestly Tonks it’s just like a paper cut, no harm done. T-thanks for um helping but I think I’ll be going to bed now.” 

He knew she knew he was lying through his teeth, she interrogated for a living for goodness sakes. Unable to bite back the surge of panic he did the only thing he could think of - slipped passed her and made for the door. He almost made it too, so determined was he to escape the prying stares to the sanctuary of his shared bedroom when Hermione’s exasperated tone clapped his ears. 

“Harry just show her, she can heal it!” 

Harry’s trainers screeched to a halt. All traces of guilt and patience diminishing rapidly, he glowed at his best friend. 

“It’s nothing like I said Tonks, just a scratch.” He said coolly, all too aware of the warm, sticky liquid trickling down his fingers. He thanked any God who was listening he’d chosen black trousers today. 

Satisfied by the lack of response he turned to leave again only this time to find his exit blocked. His stomach gave a jolt. 

“You’ve cut yourself Harry, let me see.” Remus asked in a level voice.

“It’s nothing.” 

“Well if it’s nothing then you won’t mind showing me then will you?” Remus asked with the faintest trace of that something that told him loud and clear the matter wasn’t up for debate. 

“I’m tired, really! Just overly tired. I’ll run it under the tap or something before I go to bed yea? Besides it’s not bleeding that much anyway.”

Remus raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Really?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Okay, but surely you’d get to bed a lot sooner if you allowed one of us to mend it?” 

The teen opened his mouth to reply when another voice beat him to it. 

“Harry just show him, you know they’ll find out eventually anyhow!”

Horror stricken, he whipped round, but his indignant retort died in his throat at the sight that greeted him. 

Sirius. 

He hadn’t even heard him approach. 

Suddenly inexplicably claustrophobic he backed away from his advancing godfather but gentle hands seized his shoulders grinding him to a stop.  He flinched for the second time that night as the inevitable question bled through the silence. 

“Find out what exactly?” 

“N-nothing.” 

“Harry mate, just tell ‘em.” Ron urged. 

“Tell us what exactly?” 

Harry ran a hand through his feral locks. Why was this happening now? He’d made it the entire Christmas period without anyone suspecting a thing. Why hadn’t he worn a bandage or something? Say he’d fallen off his broom, or slipped on Filch’s wet floor. Anything. Anything at all to explain Umbridge inflictions. 

“Harry?”

 This was his business, no-body else’s. This was between him and that woman, a private battle of wills he was sure no one here could understand. Shoving his hand deeper into his pocket, he fought to still his trembling mussels. 

“There’s nothing to tell.” He said again. 

Remus’s fingernails cutting into his collarbone told him something in his voice must have given him away this time. Wrenching his gaze away from his godfathers at last he locked eyes with Mr Wealsey. 

“What’s going on Harry?” 

The injured man’s gentle voice was a nightingale’s song in the mist of a howling blizzard but still the teen didn’t respond. 

“Harry dear I don’t understand, something’s clearly the matter – if you wont tell us then Ron and Hermione will have to.” Mrs Wealsey injected turning to face her youngest son who like the rest of the room, was studying his friend with bated breath. 

Harry squirmed, in all his life he didn’t think he’d wanted anything more than to disappear in that moment. Bizarrely, an image from the Wizard of Oz with the melting green witch flashed before his minds-eye and just as he was wondering whether it was possible to teach yourself to disaparate in a crisis Mad-eye Moody’s oily voice pierced the muted veil. 

“Last chance son, show us that hand of yours now or we’ll be forced to use alternative methods.”

Harry’s pupils flickered to find him fingering his crooked wand, a hint of impatience playing on his lips. 

“That won’t be necessary Alastor, Harry’s going to –“

“Harry is not going to tell us anything. Boy’s as stubborn as a bull. You were right the first time Molly, better ask his friends. So come on Weasley, Granger – what is it Potter doesn’t want us to know?” 

Harry’s pupils flickered again this time landing on his life-long friends. Ron’s ears tinged a delicate shade of pink, Hermione’s nibbled her thumbnail. A burn of anger nipped at his heart, the hourglass had run dry, the game was up.

“You don’t need to use my friends against me. That’s what Voldemort does.” He told the aging aura, his voice straddled with a bitter venom. “Besides I don’t see why you care so much, it’s not like it concerns you.” 

“Yes but Harry darling, you concern us. If something bad has happened, you’ve hurt yourself or you’re in danger –“

“It’s not like that.” 

“Then what is it like sweetheart?” Asked Mrs Weasley.  Her voice was so soft, a stalk contrast to the shrill screech it had been just minutes ago. She was regarding him with a the strangest expression, was it sadness? Disappointment? Hope? He couldn’t tell. 

“It’s nothing – please, can’t we just drop it? I’m fine! There’s nothing to worry about.”

The unbeknownst expression on Mrs Weasley’s face intensified along with Remus’s grip at his words.

“Do you want to talk about it alone? Just us?” 

The question seemed to snap Sirius from his solemn, statue-like state more effectively than a bucket of ice-cold water to the face. 

“With all due respect Molly I’m not sure that’s your place,” he told her, his tone scratched at Harry’s skin like sandpaper. 

The aging witch’s upper lip curled as her neck turned an ugly, blotchy colour. “Meaning what exactly Sirius?” 

“Meaning that I am Harry’s godfather therefore I will deal with it.”

“Oh yes and I think we can all see how well you’ve dealt with it so far. The poor boy’s terrified to speak.” She shot back throwing out an arm to exaggerate her point. 

The ex-convict it appeared couldn’t help but bite. “So he talks to you does he? No, exactly,” he spat advancing towards to stocky witch with an air of unpredictability. 

“Padfoot –“ Remus warned, finally releasing Harry’s shoulders to step towards his friend. 

“He doesn’t talk to anyone and is the reason for that not entirely obvious?” Mrs Weasley injected, her blackened stare fixed firmly on the man before her. “It’s because he feels as if he has no one to turn to, no real responsible parental figure. And before you claim that’s exactly what you are to him let me ask you, has Harry ever, ever confided in you about anything of a sensitive nature? No he hasn’t! And have you ever thought to ask yourself why Sirius? It’s because you haven’t proved to him that you’re at all worthy of his trust! You act like you want to be his brother as opposed to his godfather half of the time, the other half -” 

“Molly that’s enough –“

The room watched in sickening anticipation as the colour left the animagus’s face. “How - how dare you? Harry knows full well he can come to me! He knows I’m here for him, how – you don’t know the first thing about our relationship so how bloody dare you assume he hasn’t confided in me about anything?” 

Harry’s brain was latched to a Catherine wheel but Sirius’s last words g him like a fishers rod. He stared at the man’s back in shock. No he hadn’t confided in his godfather about anything sensitive. Did Sirius really believe he had? Or was he just lying to rile Mrs Weasley? 

Foreseeing the future Remus dived between the pair just as Molly Wealsey opened her mouth to make a cutting remark. 

“Stop! Stop it both of you. You’re acting like children. And in front of Harry? It’s totally inappropriate.“

At this both adults craned their necks to see the raven-haired boy as though realizing for the first time that he was in fact present. Their cheeks flamed and Harry pinched his inner cheek with his teeth until the metallic twang of blood filled his mouth. Seconds ago he’d been praying for any means to end the situation but this, this was the last thing on earth he wanted.

“Now I suggest both of you take some time to gather yourselves separately. Harry, come with me.”

The teen’s eyes darted to meet the werewolf’s, a sickening swirl of dread growing in his gut even stronger than before. 

“No, no I don’t need to gather myself I need to know what’s going on with my godson.” Said Sirius. 

“Shouldn’t it be up to Harry who he wants to speak to?” Mrs Weasley piped in. 

“Personally I think he owes us all an explanation –“

“With respect Moody this does not concern you.” Sirius snapped. 

“Can’t I just go to bed?” Harry asked awkwardly not wanting either of them to blow yet another fuse. “It’s no big deal, seriously. Mrs Weasley, Sirius I appreciate what you said – but I’m okay, really. I don’t want you to fight because of me, especially when there’s nothing going on.”

The two gawped at the teen, a loss for words at his continued denial over the situation despite the all the damning evidence. The werewolf however, took the opportunity to make his move.

“Can I see you Harry? Alone please?” His voice was soft, inviting even and Harry wondered if in his own way Remus was offering him an out. 

A fleeting glance over his shoulder told him consenting to the request may just be the best option he had at the moment so very slowly and very reluctantly, he nodded. 

“Come on then.”

Pivoting on his heel, the ex-professor lead him out of the crowded kitchen and down the dark and dingy hallway.

Uneasiness folded in Harry’s stomach as he passed the head of house elf’s peering down their long noses at him. You’re being stupid. He reprimanded himself. Remus isn’t going to care that much about your hand, at worst he’ll shout at you for getting detention and then it’ll be over so just relax!

 It seemed to take the pair an age to reach the living room door, the whole time Harry battled visions of being led to his own execution. But by the time Remus grasped the handle he’d worked himself up into a state of near hyperventilation.

Calm down. He told himself. Calm down and get it together but he really starts thinking you’re some sort of freak. 

The werewolf stepped aside to allow the teen entrance before inviting himself into the grim-looking lounge when he paused unexpectedly, listening intently. 

Harry chewed his lip wondering what it was the werewolf’s intense senses could hear. He didn’t have to wait long for an answer however, for moments later the sound of heavy footsteps met his ears. 

“I knew you wouldn’t keep out of it for long.” Remus called out.

As if right on cue, a shock of raven curls and flowing midnight robes appeared in the doorway. Misted eyes bypassed the ex-professor and scoured the room until they latched onto jaded green. 

Harry felt his Adam’s apple twitch. 

“Have you remembered yourself now?” 

Sirius punched his old friend with a scowl but didn’t respond. Instead choosing to return his attention to his godson. Or more specifically, his godsons trouser pocket. 

“Well shall we sit down then?” The werewolf asked, gesturing to the mouldy couches at the far end of the cobweb ridden lounge. 

Sirius jerked his head in a nod and reached out to squeeze his godson’s shoulder giving Harry the distinct impression he wasn’t about to let this drop as easily as he’d first hoped. 

Once inside the adults situated themselves comfortably on the three-seater while Harry perched meekly on the two. Distancing himself from the pair seemed a good idea at first but he soon realized the mistake he’d made. Both men were eyeing him with ill disguised hunger which somehow the nauseating sinking feeling all the worse. 

“So Har, are you going to tell us what all that was about in there?” Sirius asked.

The grease slick walls skulked closer.

“It’s like I said, it’s no b-“

“No big deal yes, you said. But how about you let us be the judge of that? Let’s start by showing us your hand?”  His godfather tried again, but seeing his godson shrink further into the cushions his tone softened. “What is it you’re keeping from us Har? What is you’re so keen to hide?“

 “Harry.” Remus interrupted, physically cutting across Sirius who was discreetly inching forwards. “Harry, we’re worried about you. It isn’t like you to be so withdrawn cub. We want to know what’s wrong so we can help you.” 

Feeling his the back of his neck grow hot, the teen let his head drop. Had Remus just called him cub? He couldn’t remember anyone ever giving him a pet name before. Nick-name yes, but that was something he’d rather not think about.

“Why won’t you tell me kiddo?” Sirius implored. “Don’t you trust me?” 

The hurt in his ashen gaze stirred something deep within his godson and in that instant Harry knew this was about something much bigger than his hand. This was about them. It was almost as if his godfather was asking him where he stood with him. What was his place in his life?

Deciding he could give him no clearer answer than the ultimate display of trust, he slipping his abused hand out of his pocket Harry swallowed his pride and presented it to his dad’s best friends. Inwardly cringing when he saw the drying blood encrusted over his scars highlighting them so they were a hundred times more visible than ever. The overall affect made his hand look like something fresh out of a horror movie. 

He grimaced at the sound of rustling of robes and scuffling limbs. Flinched when cold fingers took his own. Winced when he heard sharp intake’s of breath.

It was no good, he couldn’t stand not knowing. He had to look. 

 

 Remus’s expression was flittering between shock to disbelief so rapidly Harry felt like he was watching a hypnotists watch. Sirius however was gaping at him as though he’d just announced his desire to leave Hogwarts and live at the Dursley’s full-time. 

“Harry,” Remus breathed at last. “Harry – there are words. Words carved into the back of your hand!” 

“I know.” The teen said dropping his gaze to his outstretched hand as though it were an intriguing museum artefact. 

“Did you do this?” The werewolf asked tracing the lettering with the pad of his thumb so timidly Harry wasn’t sure he was touching him at all. 

“No of course not! Well not in the way that you think anyway.” He said cursing himself at how lame he sounded. 

 “What do you mean not in the way that you think?” 

Harry flinched at the edge of his godfather’s voice. A cold sensation of bitter dread rose in his throat, clawing at his wind pipe he could almost feel himself begin to choke. 

“What is it they say? Because it looks like Harry, it looks like they say I must not tell lies.”  

Harry didn’t reply, choosing instead to focus on the worms eating his organs from the inside out.

“That is what they say isn’t it? I must not tell lies, that’s what written on the back of your hand?”

 It was more of a statement than a question now and the teen felt his stomach flipped.

“Yea b-but, I didn’t, I mean I didn’t do it on purpose – well not exactly” 

After the minute it took to process this information, his godfathers nostrils flared and he adopted the kind of crazed glint that gave his reputation as a escaped serial murder great credit. 

 Catching on to the last part of the answer Remus raised an eyebrow. “If you didn’t do this or at least not intentionally then who?” He demanded. 

Harry muttered something under his breath only half meaning for the adults to hear.

 “What was that? What did you say?” Sirius urged impatiently. 

“Umbridge.” The teen repeated, fuelled by flourishing bitterness at the mention of his defence against the dark arts teachers name. 

“Umbridge? Professor Dolores Umbridge?”

“The one and only,” Harry said surprising even himself by omitting a dry laugh. “I got detention with her after telling her the truth about Cedric’s death last year in class and she accused me of lying, said I was making everything up! I mean, I get that the Ministry’s ignoring Voldemort’s return but how are they explaining Cedric’s death? I can’t work out if they’re really in denial or if it’s sort of conspiracy against Dumbledore going on but Umbridge, she’s just making everything a hundred times worse. And people deserve to know the truth don’t they? She just hates the fact I’m not afraid of speaking out. So yea she did it. Reckon it was her idea of teaching me a lesson.” 

His savage finish was met with silence.  Remus was opening and closing his mouth like a haddock fresh from the sea. Sirius looked ready to hit the roof. Glancing down, Harry was shocked to find himself on his feet and not only that, his chest was heaving as if someone had lit a fire in the pit of his lungs. 

So now even thinking of Umbridge got him this worked up? Why was he letting her get to him so much? He was doing exactly what she wanted! 

“How?” Remus whispered in a near awe filled voice. 

Still breathing heavily, the boy dropped his chin to his chest. There was no point holding back now. “With some sort of special quill that doesn’t use ink. When you write with it, it, well it uses the users own blood. I had to write lines so umm...” He drifted off with a shrug. 

“And what did Dumbledore have to say about this?”

Noting the sting in his ex-professor’s voice Harry bit his lip, guilt creeping up on him like a practiced thief.  “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Well yea nothing because I sort of haven’t, I mean – he doesn’t know exactly.”

“What?”

“I’m calling him now.” Sirius growled leaping to his feet so fast the coffee tables vase tippled. 

The teen’s head shot up. “What Sirius no! No you can’t!” 

“Why not?” The ex-convict asked accusingly rounding on his godson. “Why haven’t you told him?”

Harry scoffed. “Because why should I? It’s none of his business, it’s between me and Umbridge and if I went running to the headmaster I’d be giving her just what she wants!” 

“None of his business?” Remus repeated incredulously  “None of his b-buis- Harry the new defence against the dark arts professor carved words into your hand so deep they’ve scared and you’re trying to tell us that’s none of the headmasters business?” 

“No it’s not!” Harry snapped. “It’s not anything to do with him alright. Not when he can’t even do me the curtesy of looking at me when he talks to me! And Merlin knows he only ever talks to me when he absolutely has to these days. Otherwise he just pretends like I don’t exists. I only ever exist when it suits him!”

The teen punctured his last words with a low kick to the table, regretting it instantly as the vase descended to the ground and his big toe began to throb with pain.   He grimaced remembering how that was the second thing of his godfathers he’d broken within the past hour. Daring to steal a glance at the man he was surprised to see not anger but a curious kind of sadness tinging his handsome features. 

“Are you only talking about Dumbledore kiddo or perhaps others too?” 

Harry’s insides squirmed. 

“What do you mean?” He asked.

 Of course he knew in his heart of hearts exactly what his godfather meant but for some reason couldn’t bring himself to admit his brief outburst wasn’t solely aimed at the aging man. 

“I mean there must be a reason you didn’t tell anyone, why you didn’t come to us about this –“

“It’s because it’s no big deal Sirius. I can handle it.”

“But Harry you shouldn’t have to handle it! You’re barely sixteen for Merlin’s sake and that woman is doing nothing short of torturing you. It is a big deal, it’s despicable! So why cub? Why didn’t you come to one of us or any other one of your other professors for that matter? Anyone, anyone at all!”

“Ron and Hermione knew –“

“And is that because you told them or did they find out?”

Harry shuffled his feet saying nothing. 

“I still don’t understand kiddo, I just don’t understand.”

Feeling a pang of guilt he looked at his godfather who seemed to be praying to the ceiling for strength.

 “I’m sorry.” He whispered at a total loss as to what to say to make the situation better. “I know what it looks like but I promise you Sirius it really isn’t a big thing!”

“Harry! My God’s how can you even say that? How can you even think that? Of course it’s a big deal, that pathetic excuse for a human being made you slice your hand open with a blood quill for detention? Remus is right Harry it’s inhumane! It’s abuse for Christ sakes why can’t you bloody well see that?”

Perhaps it was the way Harry gave a slight shudder at the mention of detention, or the way his pores began to leak tears of sweat at Sirius’s parting comment but whatever it was, his reaction hooked his godfather’s attention like a fine thread to the eye of the needle.

“It’s not – it’s worse than it looks Siri honestly. It didn’t hurt that much when she did it.” But with every new crease rippling through his godfathers ageing face Harry’s panic increased ten-folds. “It got better the more time went on too, I got used to it you know? So it really wasn’t that bad honestly!”

“Harry – pup – the fact that you developed a stammer for the pain that thing inflicted upon you is no consolation!” 

“Well I’m sorry alright? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just thought you had more important things to worry about than me getting bloody detentions. Besides when did you start caring what happens to me at school?”

His words hit like a smouldering blow. Sirius blanched but Harry wasn’t done. 

“Last year, when I saw Voldemort’s rebirth, when Cedric died – you knew I wanted you to stay but you didn’t! You just left. You didn’t care.” Harry stormed smacking the bottom of his fist into the ancient oak table, chalk-white now the animagus began to splutter. 

“Harry I, I’ve always cared-“

“Yea? What about when my mum and dad were murdered and you chose to go after Peter instead of -?“

“I didn’t! I didn’t Harry, when I heard what had happened I came straight to your home! But it was Hagrid, he was there and –“

“Well you still chose to go hunt down Peter and get yourself thrown in Azkaban for thirteen years. You could have come to get me from the Dursley’s, you could have come to visit but no! No you chose to care more about taking revenge on –“

“Enough!” 

Harry’s jaw clamped shut with an audible snap. One look at his godfather told him he’d gone too far. Way too far. 

“Enough,” Sirius repeated, chest was heaving so hard and fast Harry was sure his lungs would pop. “Enough.”

“Sirius I-“

But his godfather raised a hand to stop him. Feeling as though someone had popped his own lungs with a needle teen fell silent once more. 

“Harry I understand why you’re angry and you have every right to be. You’re right. I did have a choice, but know this, I only made those decisions based on the information I had at the time. I should never have gone after Peter I know that now. Merlin knows I’ve spent the last thirteen years paying for that mistake as you pointed out, but Harry I was young, reckless, impulsive. I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer the consequences of my choices but that does not mean I was totally aware of –“ Sirius stopped and regarded his godson, a fierce glint in his eye. “Harry I didn’t know! I didn’t know you felt that way after Cedric, if I did I would have...Harry I know it’s no conciliation but you have to understand I really did think I was always doing what was best for both of us. I thought Dumbledore would have...Harry I did care. I always cared and I always will.” 

He gripped Harry’s shoulders in the same way Remus had minutes before as if to impress the gravity of his words. 

“If I ever had a son I – Harry you’re the best thing in my life can’t you see that? I know I’ve made some awful decisions but pup, you’re – I love you, I would never do anything to hurt you. Not intentionally anyway, please you have to know that!” 

Red-rimmed orbs met hazy grey. The teen opened his mouth only to find his throat closed. He choked. It was the first time he could remember anyone saying those words to him and their power was nothing short of immense. 

His godfather smiled, seeming to understand his godson’s lack of reply he closed the gap between them and enveloped the boy in his arms.  

“I mean it Har, I love you. I just wish you’d come to me. I wish you’d known you could and for that I am most sorry,” he whispered into the teens unruly locks, “can you talk to me pup? Can you open up to me now?” 

Pulling away he studied the boy intently and not for the first time that night, Harry fidgeted nervously under his stare. 

How could he possibly begin to tell his godfather about the things that had happened at the Dursleys? Is Sirius was angry about him keeping his detentions with Umbridge a secret from him then Merlin knows how he’d react to that.

Making a mental decision without giving so much as a hint of his thought pattern away he smiled in what he hoped was a convincing manner. 

“I will Siri, I promise. I’ll tell you everything.” He said discreetly trailing a finger along the root of his spine to check the “just encase,” charm he’d put it place back in the kitchen was still in full working order. 

He felt bad for lying to the man, particularly after what he’d just confessed but was convinced if Sirius knew the true nature of his “secrets,” then he wouldn’t be saying he loved him at all. 

So plastering on his best fake smile he allowed his godfather to wrap an arm around his shoulders and guide him back to the couch for what he believed was going to be a very, honest chat. 

 

 


End file.
